


Gorgeousness

by istia



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M, Nonsense, Writing Exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 01:18:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13307352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/istia/pseuds/istia
Summary: Bodie pops the question. A writing exercise I did as a fandom newbie.From Ursula K. Le Guin'sSteering the Craft, Part I, Being Gorgeous:Write a paragraph to a page of narrative that's meant to be read aloud. Use onomatopoeia, alliteration, repetition, rhythmic effects, made-up words or names, dialect--any kind of sound effect you like--but not rhyme or meter.





	Gorgeousness

It was aye an egregiously grand though grey-grained day when big, bruising, blue-orbed Bodie bit the bullet and begged his bastardly pig-headed and prickly--but beautifully buttercup-bottomed--partner to puhleese promise to wed his wet and weepy but devoutly devoted darling. Emerald-eyed Doyle of the buttercup-bottom (while hitching his hindermost parts into a perfectly provocative pose just to keep his sultry courtier suitably steaming) considered this considerable request with due conscionable concern for the consequences that could accrue therefrom. Such a sensational sentabble, as the kissy-curled coveted conceived, should not be essayed unless it's been sincerely surpended. Thusly thought Doyle of the buttercup-bum as he bared his broken bicuspid with a tender titch of his lush and lissome lip.

Bodie of the black-browed blue orbs gasped, and gaggered aback. He gaped a guppyish regroach, growling and grinding his canines in gratuitous grief at his buttercup-butted beloved's frivolous flaunting. The canines chorked and chackled while the sexy seccon of broken bicuspid winkled winningly in the teasing torment of the torrid maw.

How much provocation can one pallid-pigmented person withstand before white wilters and wethers and a weeven-wode rushes in, a tide of tiddly red to checker the cheeks and bruin the brow? Not so much as this, it would seem. As the face fractaled from fish to fiery furnace, the baughty bicuspid primly popped away behind propitiously pursed lips. Even Doyle of the buttercup-bum knows when he's argled his bruin Bodie too far. Doyle gangled gracefully to his feet with only a token tiny thrust of his timmly hips (and coincidentally of his grewsting and grevous groin) and stepped assarively to his stormy-stewed sarib.

"Ah, blue-orbed Bodie-barb, chork not at me. Cumb drud you are, and thick and thankle, too! Of course I'll wed with thee! What wheresome else remains to do on a grey-grained, though grandly egregious day under a canker-crossed sky than justle our pelly-naikles into a perfect ponklefin made for two...?"

And since the buttercup-bum was beticing blue-orbed Bodie's own grewstous groin to assail the seven seas of winkling wonder, it's no surprise that that is precisely what proceeded to perfeffer!


End file.
